Ataraxia
by guren666
Summary: He awoke to the sound of someone pacing around, back and forth in an impatient manner. He tried to move, only to find himself restricted to an extremely uncomfortable chair, his hands bound, clapped in metals. Someone laughed. "I see you have figured out what we want from you, elf. Do us all a favor and tell us what you know about the apostate running the free clinic in Darktown."
1. Abducted

Chapter 1: Abducted

He awoke to the sound of someone pacing around, back in forth in an impatient manner. He tried to move, only to find himself restricted to an extremely uncomfortable chair, his hands bound, clapped in metals. Also, a cloth was over his eyes, preventing him from seeing where he was or who was the person (or people) in the room with him. He panicked. What happened? He was in the Hightown Mansion. After two rough days on Wounded Coast with Hawke, Isabela and the abom – mage, he finally got some time for himself. He remembered how he fell asleep, sinking into his bed, not even removing his armor.

He was tired, but he wasn't a fool. He locked the doors. They must have picked his locks. He was getting annoyed. If this was another one of Isabela's "harmless pranks", he'll skin her. For real.

"Who are you? Release me!"

He rummaged, trying to break free, but somehow the binds were... weakening him. He went pale. He heard of this. Special kind of metal that subsided magic. And since his tattoos were lyrium... those bastards. Who kidnapped him? Danarius was dead.

"Who are you! I demand an answer!" He panic grew by a perimeter. The steps drew closer and someone leaned closer, blew on his ears. When he shivered in fear, a chuckle escaped his captor's lips. "Don't worry. If you cooperate, we won't have to take... drastic measures." A scruffy voice on the left said. He tilted his head. "I will not cooperate with kidnappers. You're slavers, aren't you? I abhor your kind. I'd rather die than help you." He spat on the floor.

"Now, now. At ease. To some we might seem as kidnappers, but we are simply doing our sacred duty to the Maker. Isn't that right, men?" Some new, overly sweet manly voice said.

Templars.

He was kidnapped by templars? But he wasn't a mage! Why would they... unless they wanted information on someone. Like the witch or the abom- mage. They weren't on good terms most of all times, but he'd never sell them out to the templars. They are Hawke's friends. Marginally, over the last six years, maybe they became more like his associates, too.

"I see you have figured out what we want from you, elf. Do us all a favor and tell us what you know about the apostate running the free clinic in Darktown. He has eluded our capture for years. I have a personal interest in meeting the interesting fellow." The sweet voice coated in venom slurred the last words, enjoying the tension.

"I don't know what you're talking about, templar. I don't know any mages." He lied to them. He won't sell out the mage to templars. Their opinions varied, but he wasn't so heartless to expose him to his greatest fear. He knew what templars did to apostates in this city. Either killed them or made them Tranquil. He wished no such fate for the mage, despite their differences.

"Don't lie to me, elf. If you don't cooperate, we will have to use other means for getting information."

"I won't help you. I don't deal with your kind. You are no better than the fucking slavers, preying on the weak."

"Pity." Someone approached him and pressed some vial with foul liquid to his lips. He vehemently refused to open his mouth, but another pair of hands forced his lips apart, the liquid flowing into his mouth. He spit out and he was punched in stomach for it. He gasped at the sudden pain and the liquid was once more forced down his throat, the hands holding his head in place until he swallowed down a bit. He coughed. It was foul beyond measure. His insides hurt. Was this poison? His lyrium markings hurt like never before. The coppery taste in his mouth got worse when he coughed up. Blood.

"Fasta Vass! You're all insane!"

"Only doing our duty, elf. We heard of your violent nature from contacts. Your powerful friends don't know about you capture. I am pretty sure no one knows about this. We can kill you and one will come."

He laughed bitterly. "Then kill me. I won't say anything."

"Oh, I am sure you will tell us. Magebane mixed with Antivan Crow poison and Soldier's Bane. A very helpful potion, don't you think? If you want an antidote, you should tell us. You wish to live, yes? Why cover for some mage you don't even care about? We know all about Lady Hawke's companions, expect for the mysterious mages. Help us out and you get rid of the mage you hate. Sounds like a fair deal to me."

They knew too much about their group. They should have been more careful... when they came to Gallows. He knew someone was spying on them from the shadows. Fucking templars. "We might not see eye to eye, but the mage is my ally. You can kill me. I won't say anything to you." He snarled at them despite the poison taking its effect. Mainly the Magebane was doing a thing on him. His lyrium tattoos flared and he cried out in pain.

"You won't endure much longer, elf. Do you value that man's life so much you would sacrifice yours to save him?"

"You don't know anything about him, templar. He's a far better person than any of you assholes who kidnap someone in their sleep."

"Fine. I didn't want to do this... but we have a little help here. Say hello." The insufferable sweet voice boomed and he heard how someone new came in, closing the door. "I am sorry it had to come to this, Leto."

Varania?! After killing Danarius, he assumed she ran somewhere far, far from Kirkwall. Why was she here?

"Varania! You traitorous bitch! What are you doing here?"

"I got caught, Leto. Templars here are far more diligent than the ones in Minrathous . I resorted to blood magic. They'll pardon me this time and send me to a Circle somewhere away from here instead of killing me. I simply have to get the information they need. I am sorry, Leto."

If he could, he would crush that bitch's heart right now. He knew he should have killed her. Damn Hawke and Varric for their sympathy towards traitorous siblings. She didn't deserve to live after her first betrayal. This was the second time. And she got the mage involved. He was weakened by the poison that circulated in his bloodstream, each breath he took was strenuous. It took all his willpower to not pass out. He won't let them dig in his head. He won't!

"Leto... I am sorry..." She approached and stopped before him, he felt the strange sensation as she used the blighted magic. He shook his head in a pitiful attempt to get her out of his mind, but she was already there, digging into his memories associated with the mage. Their spats, quarrels, fights they fought together by Hawke's side. When the mage healed him, exhausted from healing and casting spells at enemies, but still willing to help him and everyone else. Then, their first meeting when he came to his clinic with Hawke...

"Vishante Kaffas! You are not sorry at all, bitch! Stop with this!" He yelled out in rage. She dared to go there! She knew where the mage was! Suddenly, the foreign feeling as if someone was digging into his mind vanished without a trace.

Varania walked a bit. "I have it, ser."

The sickly sweet voice laughed, victorious. "We got what we wanted. Leave him here."

They dropped something next to him, but he was still bound. "Don't say we are monsters, elf. Here is the antidote. You have maybe two hours before the poison takes full effect in your system. Though I doubt you'll get the bindings loose. Thank you for your cooperation." The voice laughed one last time in a sick manner and they all left. He cursed at them, shaking with dread and disgust. Varania betrayed him not once, but twice. He unwillingly sold out the mage. The selfless mage who cared for freedom above else. If he won't save him, then he will become a slave to the bastards he hated. Alone against them, he was helpless, even as the powerful abom- mage he was.

He was going to be killed.

Or worse. Become Tranquil. He saw Tranquil mages before. They were empty shells, devoid of life. The mage didn't deserve this.

A frustrated cry escaped his lips in spite of his helplessness. He hoped someone would come to help him. Then he'd stop the templars from doing something to the mage.

"Anders..."

He lost consciousness.

_ TO BE CONTINUED_


	2. Spirited

Chapter 2: Spirited

The former Grey Warden, now only a healer had one of the bad days in his clinic. Raiders and cut -throats were commonplace here in Darktown, but they had quite the gall to attack him while he was tending to patients. That was this morning. He dealt with them as fast as he could, taking precaution not to hit innocents with a stray fireball. Then he had to drink two lyrium potions to stabilize his mana for the healing his patients required.

Now it was reaching midday and all of his patients have left. He retreated to his small back room, continuing his work on manifesto. He didn't get too far with writing. For once, he was out of ideas. Best to give it a rest, he should go and clear his head. A change of pace won't hurt. His staff was flat against the wall, untouched since the morning fight. All of sudden he chuckled. This fear somewhere in the back of his head wouldn't leave him, no matter how hard he delved in his work at clinic or when he was with Hawke on many of her ventures. In his latest Grey Warden nightmares, the darkspawn changed to templars. It was silly, he knew of it. The spawn can't just turn into something else. Yet, both templars and darkspawn were his greatest fears.

The evil creatures guided by Blight could be easily defeated, but templars... not so easily. He learned the hard truth firsthand years ago, when he was just a Circle apprentice. That started his chain of escape attempts. Each time, he was caught and thanks to the phylactery, each punishment he received for his escapes were more severe. When he escaped for the seventh time, they put him in a solitary for a year. No one to talk to, no living soul around. Only templars that abused his mind and occasionally, body. He hated them with all of his being for that.

It just proved that templars were hypocrites. Phylacteries were on the verge of practice of blood magic. His rage grew and Justice beamed inside his mind, reminding him once more of the injustice in the world. But what could he alone change? He was just a single man with too many fears.

So far, templars were on the first place. He dreaded waking up every day, looking over his shoulder if the fucking jailers didn't show up suddenly before him. Anyone could sell him off to the templars. His patients... his friends wouldn't willingly do that, but if they were forced to... he shuddered and stood up, walking from one end of his room to another, pondering about it. If someone would betray him... it would be Fenris. He'd do it gladly even. It was no secret their opinions of mage freedom were very different.

For the last six years, the former slave finally stopped seeing him as a potential treat when he, Hawke and Merril came to clinic one day and saw him helping the people in Darktown till he was on the par of utter exhaustion. He dropped and someone caught him. It was the elf, Fenris to his surprise back then. Hawke forced him to lay down and get some sleep, saying they'll stay and keep watch, meaning he has nothing to fear. No one would come and snatch him to the wretched Gallows without mercy.

He laughed at himself for thinking about that ancient history. Chantry would sooner embrace the Qun philosophy than he and Fenris would start a more friendlier relationship. He blinked, confused with his own thoughts. Since when did he think of Fenris like that? They were only civil because of Hawke and others like Varric.

There was no way by Andraste's flaming knickers they'd have a **something**.

He abandoned such useless and trifle thoughts, shifting his frame on the chair, leaning backwards. Justice didn't approve of his distraction by the elf warrior.

A knock came from the other side. He felt someone there. Someone with magic. A mage. He picked up his staff, carefully approaching the door. "Who's there?" He asked quietly.

"Please, help me." A woman's voice. It even seemed familiar somehow. He undid the latches and locks on the door and opened it slowly, revealing... "Varania?!" He let her in. If Fenris knew she was still in Kirkwall, he would kill her.

"Woman, are you crazy? Your know he told you to run away. Were I you, I would heed his word and never show my face around him. Ever again." She huffed and clutched at her stomach, grunting, seemingly in pain. He noticed the blood pouring out of her wound. "You're injured! Lay down on the cot, I will do what I can..."

She dismissively shook her head. Something was wrong. Fenris's sister was a mage. Like himself. An apostate without any means to go back to Tevinter with Danarius dead. He should have known... Before he could use a spell, any spell, the blood from her wound gathered around her, her eyes becoming alien. He stared into those eyes, frozen on the spot. She got him under his control. Justice tried to break free, but something was interfering with the spirit's power. Her expression was unreadable. "I am sorry, mage." She murmured quietly as encroaching steps crept closer to the door. It opened and five men rushed in. They were dressed like all the common folk down here but they weren't normal. They dispelled all his attempts at breaking free from the blood binding.

His eyes widened in horror. Justice was screaming in his head, unable to help his host for the first time since they merged. "The rogue Grey Warden apostate, I presume. It's a pleasure to meet you finally." The nearest man spoke arrogantly, grinning at him. "Who -who are you?"

"We are the Maker's loyal subjects, doing His divine work for him. That's keeping dangerous apostates like you locked up. But we have different plans with you, mage. You may not remember my friend Ser Alrik, do you?"

Alrik was the bastard who came up with the "Tranquil Solution" crap three years ago. He and Hawke killed that bastard and saved a mage girl from being made Tranquil. Also,the creep was responsible for Karl's death. He paid for it with his life dearly. But who were they? If they knew of it, then they must be...

Templars.

No, no, no, no, no, no. NO!

"So you know what we are planning, mage. Yes, my friend was killed, but I seek more than vengeance. I seek divine retribution. Men!"

The other four templars laughed sadistically. One of them approached the stifled mage. "Now, woman. Command him to open his mouth and obediently swallow."

"I don't want to die. Leto left me no choice. I had to save myself." She said to him, the sad, subtle tone was in her voice.

Leto?... Fenris.

What did they do to him? Did she use blood magic on him, too?

"He should have killed you." He said, gritting his teeth in disgust at the elf woman who not only betrayed him, but her only brother. Now possibly twice. "I'd rather die than betray my friends or family. You are despicable, Varania."

A single tear trickled down her cheek. "He said the same thing. Funny. It's too late." She did a gesture and opened her mouth wide. Covered in sweat over the dread, his mouth opened on its own. He closed his eyes, praying to the Maker to send anyone to help him.

But he was alone. All his friends were elsewhere. The templars forced a rather disgusting and foul smelling liquid down his throat. Varania promptly gulped down. Much to his disdain, he did, too. The liquid set him on fire – inside out. Still restrained, he yelled out from the pain, Justice's cry vanishing somewhere in the dank corners of his tortured mind.

The binding tore off as Varania released her hold on him. If he could, he would murder them all. The ungrateful bitch, bloody templars. It was getting harder and harder for him to see. He fell on all fours, heaving. He looked at his hands, covered in blood. They gave him some poison, probably a mixture of two or more potent poisons to dampen his movements and magic. Cowards.

"Cowards! Afraid to fight me dead on! At least Alrik had the balls to fight me! Spineless bastards!"

His last words disappeared with a kick to his groin. He collapsed on his back, gasping for air. Then the other templars joined in, taking a great deal of pleasure in his pain as they beat him up. Before his mind slipped off, it wandered to the elf who more than likely shared his fate. Simply for knowing him. He never wished to get him involved or anyone.

This fight he lost. It will be his last. Justice was quiet.

"Fenris..."

* * *

Someone shook with him not so gently. He opened his eyes, grunting. "Fenris! Wake up!" His sight returned and he saw before him Hawke with her large brown eyes directed at him, worried. "Thank goodness! It's a good thing Varric and Aveline are keeping tabs on you." " Who was it?" Another voice asked while working on the cuffs. It was Isabela, of course.

"Templars."

One word was all that was needed. They all knew what that meant.

The bindings were off his wrists and he stood up, wobbling. Aveline and Varric caught him before he crumbled under the pressure. "Antidote..." He asked for the small vial. Varric handed it to him and he drank in one fluid motion. Hawke didn't give him time to recuperate, nor he wanted to rest now. He had a score to settle, save the abom – mage before it was too late.

"We have no time. Varania used blood magic on me and got the location of the clinic in Darktown. We have to hurry."

They all nodded, Hawke supported him before the antidote kicked in. Their destination was clear. They only prayed they'd make it in time...

When they arrived, the doors on the clinic were off their hinges, hanging barely on. He dreaded what they'd find – if they'll find anything at all. They rushed inside, looking around frantically to find the healer, their healer.

The clinic was a mess, more than usual. Furniture was overturned, the salves and poultices smashed, broken on the ground. He went ahead of the group, towards the mage's private room in the back. It was slightly ajaar. He peered in. His staff was there. That must mean they caught him off guard. Then something else caught his attention. A pool of blood in the middle of the small room. He approached the puddle and doubled over, tracing his hands around it. A fight, recent. The mage might still be alive. No, the mage is alive. He was far too stubborn to give up just like that.

"Where have they taken him?" Hawke asked of them as if they knew.

He stood up, taking the mage's staff with him. Nobody commented on it.

"It doesn't matter. We'll find the mage. It's my fault for letting Varania live. She let this happen. I meet her, she's dead." It was a promise to himself. That bitch wasn't his sister. She was a stranger that saved her own hide. Varric and Aveline exchanged quick looks. "I see. Elf, stay here with Hawke and Isabela. Me and Aveline will go and use our connections and people to find out where they took Blondie."

"No time! They might kill him in the meantime!" Hawke protested and he felt inclined to agree. Templars in this city were ruthless.

"It's our best option." Isabela who was quiet spoke up.

"I agree." Aveline nodded. They excused themselves and went ahead of the trio that stayed behind in the clinic.

Hawke laid a hand on his shoulder, but he wouldn't have it. "Don't console me, Hawke! It's your and Varric's fault for not letting me kill that traitorous bitch! Were it not for her, I would have..." His voice trailed off in sudden realization.

He'd throw his life away for the mage. If it meant saving him from his greatest fear.

He brought his palm to the face, holding back the urge to laugh at his misery. And the fucking irony.

All these yeas, he loved the mage.

Now he's probably dead or will fare much worse fate if they won't find him in time.

Isabela raised her eyebrow, in suspicion. "They would have to release me without getting any information."

"I think you're thinking too kindly of them, Fenris. They're soulless sons of bitches. Most of them. Save my brother. Okay, he's grumpy, but not a bad person. Enough of this. We'll wait at my estate for any news from either of them."

The pirate and warrior nodded, taking point as the Champion of Kirkwall covered their backs in the insidious corners of Darktown.

He gripped the mage's staff in desperation.

_ TO BE CONTINUED_


	3. Abnegation

Chapter 3: Abnegation

He woke, sitting up. The pain was gone, but came back gnawing into his flesh like a blight wolf. They either gave him antidote or Justice healed him somehow, but it didn't help much. He had no idea how long he slept or where he was. The surroundings were vague, the room seemed more like a pen for animals. He didn't recognize this place. It looked like he was in a cave... he approached the bars, hoping to melt them with fire magic, only to find the bars were made of lyrium and magic suppressing metal.

"Look. Our little mage came to." One of his kidnappers motioned towards him and his companions came closer to the cell. He backed away like a wounded wolf. Wolf. Why did his mind wander to the elf? His captors took him to a cave. He only hoped they were still in Free Marches or at least near Kirkwall. He grasped on the bars. "What are you going to do with me? Kill me, for I won't stand for being made one your slaves!"

The one he presumed to be the leader of the templars stepped closer and the torchlight illuminated his face. He saw him one time when he was on business by Solivius with Hawke. The look on his face that time... he knew it didn't bode well for them, but not one word was spoken towards his friends. This was his fault. If he spoke about his suspicion... then he wouldn't be captive like a fool. The former slave wouldn't suffer because of him. The cell was driving him crazy, reminded him of the one year in solitary. This was all too similar.

"You mages think you have on choice. We know of you, abomination. I wonder what happens if we try the Rite of Tranquility on a possessed apostate? What do you think?" The leader asked, academically. The corners of his mouth curled in grin.

He didn't know and he didn't want to find out anytime soon. As he said, he'd rather die in battle. His wounds weren't tended to as he just noticed, wincing at the pain in his mid section. The ribs were better, the bastards got him good time. They were bruised, probably. He hardly sat down for now. He's going nowhere – the bars were preventing him from casting any regenerative spells on himself and he was nauseous. He cocked his head to the side, coughing up more blood.

"Oh, maybe we overdid it with the mixture, Temil." One of the minions said, addressing the main asshole. "I told you not to call me by name, idiot! Though it matters little. This mage will soon become one of my personal... playthings."

He went pale. This time not just from pain. He remembered the abuses. No, he didn't want to remember. Justice, please... take over. Smite them, kill them. But the spirit remained dormant in the depths. No response. Justice couldn't help him. Only a miracle could.

The templars were talking amongst themselves and frequently two went somewhere and returned. Guarding the entrance for his rescue? Ha, unlikely. If Hawke and friends make it, then he'll have a proper shave after years. The waiting for his execution was nerve wrecking, doubled with the pain, he wasn't hopeful for a rescue. He was an abomination in many people's eyes, an abomination that was a stain, disgrace. What could he possibly do? He didn't have his staff, the bars were cockblocking his magic and Justice didn't respond at all. When the bastards use their abilities to drain his already depleted mana from too much strain, it's over for him.. He pushed himself to stay awake, doing his best to subdue the pain, unmoving on the cold, hard soiled ground. He was all but crumbling under the templar imprisonment. But he won't let them have the satisfaction to see him cry or beg for mercy.

"Lookie there. Our little mage has given up on resistance." The fourth lackey said, mockingly. More like preserving his strength for the final confrontation, but let them think he has given up. He wasn't a quitter. It seemed they had more preparations, so that left him some time to think about an escape – to occupy his mind from his more than likely change to a Tranquil. He closed his eyes, praying to the Maker.

The fate of a Grey Warden, healer and mage laid in His hands.

* * *

The more he thought about, the more it was inevitable. Waiting around won't help find the mage any sooner. He had to take action. This inactivity was driving him crazy. With worry. He walked in front of the fireplace in Hawke's estate. The woman was unmoving, her elbows propped on the stairs rails, staring at the main entrance. Isabela was sitting in the guest room with Bodahn, who made tea for everyone. None drank though. The anticipation was slicing up the insecurity they all felt. Yet none of the three dared to say the thought aloud.

He had enough of doing nothing. He hated to get the witch involved, but it would be the fastest way. "Hawke. Let's go to Lowtown. We'll pick up the witch and head for the clinic with her. She'll track the mage down sooner."

She raised her brow at his suggestion. The elf who hated blood magic is now encouraging its use? Sure, it was for a good cause, but still... he must care for Anders more than he gives credit for. Isabela waltzed in the main room, smirking. "Sure thing. Let's get Kitten and we're off to save Anders."

"And what if Varric's and Aveline's people find our mage sooner and we miss the messengers?"

He didn't approve of waiting. "We leave them a note. They'll catch up with us."

Hawke sighed but she descended down the stairs. "Fenris is right. This waiting is good for nothing. Merrill can track him. You saw that pool of blood. It must be Anders'. Maker willing, it didn't dry up... much. Let's get Merrill."

He didn't wait to see if the women followed after him. Time wasn't exactly a luxury they had. Hawke scribbled a note, left it on the table and ran after the elf and pirate.

Trek to Alienage took longer than he expected as idiots barred they way. Thugs who preyed on the dark streets of Kirkwall. When they finally reached the steps down to the Alienage and the big tree in the square, the pirate and Hawke were out of breath. He was growing weary, too, but they were there. His long legs carried him to the witch's house, there he banged on the door until she peered outside with small knife in her hand. She was surprised to see him, he could tell from her expression. No time for idle talk. "Get your staff, we are going to Darktown." She noted he had a mage's staff strapped to his back alongside his trademark greatsword. Was it...?

She saw Hawke and Isabela behind him, apologetically shrugging at his impoliteness at this late hour. However, she sensed something was wrong. She nodded, went inside to get her weapon and she followed after the warrior who walked so fast he was practically running. In the meantime, she got briefed by Hawke on the situation. Merrill didn't like what she was hearing. Her amazement grew when Isabela told him it was Fenris's idea to use her abilities to locate Anders. After all, he was the one who hated blood magic. For him to agree to this, he must feel strong camaraderie towards Anders. She giggled at this. If those two were to get along, the team would be relieved. They were all friends, so of course Fenris would help Anders? Her reasoning was put to rest for now. More thugs assaulted them from the shadows. However, they stood no chance as Fenris who was impatient and furious about more delays to the clinic cleaved the path for the women all by himself. "We should move on. It's ways before Darktown."

They nodded and increased their tempo, running after the elf warrior who navigated them to the shortcut to the sewers.

Good ten minutes later after nonstop running, they reached Anders' clinic, empty and devastated as they left it. Merrill saw the scene for the first time, the carnage was enormous. He led them inside the small room where the mage slept. There, in the middle was a pool of red. Merrill bit her lip at this, shaking her head. "By the Creators! That's a lot of blood! He must be injured seriously!" A resolve was in her eyes as she knelt down, exhaling before she made a little cut on her palm, chanting the tracking spell. In the meantime, the others took point so if that someone wandered inside clinic – patient or foe – they wouldn't disturb her concentration. He glanced at the witch from his guarding point near the unlit lantern. The blood was swirling around her, reacting to her. He bit his lip. He didn't like blood magic, not after Danarius and being slave. But this was different. The witch suddenly stopped chanting and the blood gathered around her, dancing in the shade of dark purple. She gasped as the blood vaporized into thin air. Isabela ran to her and caught her. "Kitten, you holding up? Did you get it?"

She nodded and smiled weakly, wrapping up a bandage on her small wound, stopping the bleeding. "Yes, he's in the Holding Caves. I saw him for a moment – he's imprisoned and injured. Templars are there with him -five of them. All dressed in full plate."

Holding Caves. Funny how his past always found a way to hound him. He turned. "Then we are off."

Merrill gathered herself. "Wait. I am coming, too. I won't let them get away with taking one of our team."

She may be useful. "Do what you want." He muttered, walking out and heading to the Smuggler's Cut. Only ways around, but faster than going back to Lowtown and then leaving Kirkwall. This way they'll be faster there. His hand reached to his sword and he accidentally fumbled on the hilt of the mage's staff. They descended down the ladder into the depths. Fights were to the minimum – only occasional Carta smugglers down there. As soon as they saw them, they ran for their dear lifes. Hawke and his friends had quite the reputation down in the slums, as it looked like. That's fine with him, it meant he could save the mage sooner.

Hold on, mage.

Rescue is coming.

_ TO BE CONTINUED _


	4. Death or salvation

Chapter 4: Death or salvation

Holding Caves. The name itself left a vile after taste in his mouth. He came upon the proximity of the wretched entrance. There, two people were waiting for them. It were Aveline and Varric. He put away his sword for the time being. They greeted them, the captain of the guard with a hand gesture and the dwarf with a grin. "There you are! We almost went inside without you! Hey, you brought Daisy with you, I see. Then the rescue party is complete." He scoffed. "The templars are inside?"

Aveline answered. "Yes, but they are restless. They haven't caught wind of our presence yet, but it's crucial we surprise them."

Merrill thought about a plan. It's their best bet. "I have a plan."

More plans. He had a plan. Storm them and kill the bastards. Hawke had other ideas. "Let's hear it. Be quick about it. Fenris is frustrated." She said, joking slightly, but when she caught the elf's sour grimace pointed at her, she giggled. Merrill started explaining her plan. "Well, it's like this – Hawke and Aveline bring me to them, saying they caught me for execution." The unbelieving looks she received from others were priceless, but she continued on. "You'll think of something, Hawke. You always do. Anyways, I'll play along. In the meantime, Varric, Isabela and Fenris go around the side passages and flank them from behind. The signal for attack will be..."

"The signal will be me killing one of them. I approve, wit- Merrill." He said, forgetting his distrust towards the elven mage. But she thought of this, putting herself in danger. He had no right to decline her suicidal tactic. They had the same objective and that was rescuing the mage from the templar fanatics.

Merrill's eyes were double their size in disbelief that he used her name for the first time since they knew each other. Maybe she finally gained his trust and respect? She gave him a warm smile, thanking him for trusting her on this.

He turned to leave, Isabela followed after him, winking at the three women. Varric shrugged. "Well, Bianca's excited!" He proclaimed, doing his best to keep up with the fast paced duo. They went for the side passages. He hoped the plan wouldn't backfire right back at them.

With Varric's and Isabela's stealth and wits, he found himself on the other side of the Holding Caves. Isabela peeked around the corner and quickly hid, before she was seen. Hawke is coming, she mouthed silently and he got the message.

He waited for Hawke and the witch – Merrill to commence with the plan. They strode in. First to speak was the templar boss. "What's the meaning of this! The Champion of Kirkwall! My, we have been graced. And the Captain of the City Guard with her!" He approached them, as did the other templars. As quietly as he could, he made a move forward. He was glad he was barefoot. Shoes would give him away. He slowly drew his sword. He caught the three women's gazes for a second. Hawke turned to Merrill with a devilish grin. "I am sick of you. Since you are of no use to me anymore, I am handing you over to the templars." She said sternly. Merrill and Aveline stared at her as if Hawke grew another head. Merrill backed away, horrified at Hawke's betrayal. "No! I trusted you! You led me here to hand me over to them?!"

Hawke shrugged nonchalantly. " I have no use for mages. Since they took care of the mage, I thought I'll hand them you over as a... reconciliation. I can't make enemies of templars and Chantry because of few apostate mages."

Merrill hung her head in defeat, seemingly losing her will to fight. The templar boss laughed at the display. "Hahaha! I knew the Champion would come to senses and see how dangerous it is to have apostate friends. One of them is waiting to be branded. He's so weakened it's pathetic. But we take precautions when dealing with abominations. Now... hand over the elf girl." The leader said.

In that moment, his sword pierced through the armor of an archer templar, who fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, bleeding out. The four remaining were dumbfounded and that's when Hawke and her companions all striked at once. Merrill casted Hex of Torment on them, resulting in the templars for whining in pain. Varric and Bianca danced with the bolts, striking at the templars reavers, Isabela emerging from shadows and hitting them in the vital points with Pinpoint Strikes. Aveline bashed the leader with her shield, a small crack appeared in his armor, torso area and he lost his footing for a moment. Hawke used the split second to their advantage, driving her trusty daggers into the crack, the tips slicing into the flesh. The templar leader cried out, blood trickling down his armor.

"You bitch! I knew you were up to good! Knight Commander should have never made you a Champion! You are a disgrace to the people that like you! Now I know that it was really you who killed Ser Alrik all those years back!"

The three lackeys were defeated and he was the last one remaining, grinning at Hawke and friends despite his imminent death. "Do what you must. Truth lies in the next world."

Before anyone could lift a finger, a gauntleted fist drove across the chest of the templar leader from behind. He slowly turned his head, blood flowing from his mouth. "Ugh! Fucking elf!"

He cocked his brow at the cursing man, grabbed hold of the pulsing organ and ripped it out, squashing it before the templar's eyes. He saw the fear in them before the lights faded. He fell, just like the others. Disgusted by the swine, he threw the crushed remains of the black heart away. He noticed a small key falling out of the templar's pocket. That must be for the cell the mage is locked in. Probably.

The rest of his friends were stunned from his bloodthirst. "Elf, you okay?" Varric asked of him, approaching him. He looked around. "Let's find the mage and be done with this place. I don't have fond memories of this damned pit."

Others laughed nervously, Varric, Hawke and Isabela in particular as they were with him here when he killed Hadriana.

Hawke took the initiative. "Hey, Anders! Aaaandeeers! Where are yooou?!" She screamed from the top of her lungs and soon Merrill joined in. He, Aveline, Varric and Aveline rolled their eyes. "You heard the templar. He's weakened. I doubt he's conscious or strong enough to answer back, Hawke."

Hawke sheepishly scratched her hair. "You can't say I didn't try. Then let's split up here. We cover more ground that way. Okay... Merrill, you go with Isabela. I will go with Fenris and Aveline can go with Varric. If one party finds him, you shout and we come running."

They nodded and each two pairs scattered into the tunnels, looking for the cells. Fenris ran around the walls, knocking with the hilt of his greatsword on them. He heard of secret walls that react on touch. "Using the knock knock jokes wouldn't be good at this time, would it?"

He growled at Hawke's miserable attempt to ease the situation. He didn't answer, instead continued knocking. They were deep inside when one wall sounded shallow as if there was a secret room. He looked for a switch, any switch. Hawke caught glimpse of a tiny hole and equally tiny rock on the ground next to it. She picked it up. "Let's see..." She pushed it inside and it fitted perfectly. The wall clicked as if it was unlocked and moved aside, revealing a small room with bars, behind them was the mage. Anders. Unmoving.

His blood froze in his veins momentarily. The mage cannot be dead. He rushed to the bars, sticking the key into the lock and turning it, unlocking the cell. Hawke came closer, but let Fenris go inside. She still has a suspicion to clear. This was her chance.

He hoisted the mage up, scooting him into his arms. "Wake up, mage! The templars are dead."

Nothing. Anders was still and white as a corpse. He checked his pulse. It was weak, but it was there. He squeezed the mage's hand. "You're too stubborn to give up, mage. We risked our lifes to save you. Everyone did. They are all here."

Hawke took pity on the elf and went inside the cell, kneeling down. "He will live. I am not sure, but I think the bars are made of lyrium suppressing steel."

"Yes, I can feel it. My tattoos are..."

Anders opened his eyes suddenly. "Where am... I?" He said weakly, his lips chapped from the throwing up. His sight focused on the elven warrior holding him. He reacted on instinct and hugged him tightly. "Thank the Maker you live! When Varania spoke of you, I thought she had you killed!"

He was too shaken by the sudden contact forced by the mage to reply back curtly as he would. Hawke reached out to the healer and touched his shoulder slightly. "I am so relieved you are alive, Anders. The team came to the rescue."

He let go of the slightly flushed elf and Hawke helped him stand up on his own two feet. He wobbled and the warrior caught him. "Thank you..."

The elf looked anywhere but at the healer. "No need. What Hawke says is true. The witch tracked you down to this place and we came as fast as we could."

Anders nodded in acknowledgement. "And I am glad for your timely rescue. I fear I would have become Tranquil were it not for you all. Thank you." He bowed to them, meaning it. It was good to know he had someone he could rely on.

"Blondie, you look shitty." Varric spoke up. Behind him showed up the rest of friends. Aveline and Isabela shortly smiled at the healer and Merrill came straight to him and hugged him. Now it was the healer's turn to be confused. "I am so relieved you're still you, Anders! We were all horribly worried! Most of all Fenris..."

He snorted. The witch said unnecessary stuff, more than she should.

"Of course I did. Varania is my responsibility to deal with. She got someone I know involved and I had to act." He replied and he met the warm amber gaze of the healer. "Nevertheless... I thank you all for coming to my aid. I am in your debt."

"Nonsense! We're all friends! That's what friends do! Help each other in need!" Merrill chirped, oblivious as always. Hawke grinned. "Now I don't want to ruin the reunion, but staying in this cell isn't healthy for any of us. Let's go back to Kirkwall. I propose we go to my mansion."

He helped the mage walk, supporting him. "Let's go then. I really hate this place."

It wasn't surprising that the mage laughed. Cracked ribs or not, it was ironic.

"You know, we finally agree on something."

He stayed quiet and they all strode outside, navigating through the tunnels to the exit, Varric and Merrill taking point. Hawke stayed behind the elven warrior and healer, listening into their occasional banter.

Suddenly, Anders chuckled and the elf gave him quite the questioning look. "I guess I'll have to shave properly ever since I escaped the Wardens."

He waited for an explanation, as did the others. The mage didn't disappoint their curiosity. "I swore that if I somehow survive this and someone, namely Hawke and you, my friends come to save me, I'll shave. Maker has a sense of humor."

Everyone giggled at this. Even the elven warrior cracked a smile. Merrill had to comment on it. "Alert the Chantry! Fenris smiled!"

Isabela grabbed her shoulders and led her out of harm's way. "Kitten, Hawke's humor is rubbing off on you."

"Rubbing? Is this dirty, Isabela? I don't get what you mean."

The collective sighs could be heard, echoing in the caves. "Merrill..."

He couldn't be happier that he was saved from the bloody templars and their "holy right" to sentence him to Tranquility.

The mage had to say it again. "I have to say it one more time."

They all stopped in their tracks, glancing at the mage who held on to the elf. "I thank you all for being true friends. I wouldn't like the man I would have become if the templars had their way with me."

Hawke pinched him. "Oh, stop with the sappy mood! You're making us blush!" It was partly true. "We're not leaving anyone in the claws of templars or slavers or other kidnappers. We're a team."

The mage scanned everyone's faces and smiled faintly. "And I am proud to be on the team."

They turned and resumed with walking. None said a word, the only sounds were their steps as they walked towards the soruce of light in the distance. Their way out.

For the first time in years, he was really, really happy to be alive. And most of all, he was beyond happy that it was the elf he saw.

He knew what that feeling meant. He swore he would never think of someone like that after Karl, but the elf was... special.

If such a day comes when they can... move past their opinions, then maybe, just maybe he'll he happiest man in Thedas. For now, he was content with the elf being close to him. It was more than he deserved. After Justice...

He was his salvation.

_ TO BE CONTINUED_


	5. All new, faded for him

Chapter 5: All new, faded for him

Hawke closed the door and caught glimpse of her friend who stood there the whole time, probably. She raised her brow at him, perplexed slightly at the sudden change in attitude. "He's asleep now. You should go and rest as well."

He dismissed her offer. "No, I am fine. Is he... gonna be alright?"

"In day or two, he should make a full recovery. Bodahn mixed the antidote, with Anders's instructions, of course. It's a good thing he repaired his ribs himself, bandages wouldn't help as much. He's exhausted all his energy. Give him a moment. Or..." Hawke's voice trailed off, giving him the "go on" look.

"Leave him to sleep peacefully. He probably never sleeps more than few hours. The circles under his eyes have gotten even darker." He said, forgetting that the almighty and not so sublime Hawke was too observant. And she read people mostly well. He mentally kicked himself for saying too much in front of Hawke. Now she'll make fun of him and he'll never hear the end of it.

"You notice such details on his face? My, my... Fenris." She said knowingly.

"Hawke. Don't." he growled.

"You have a **thing** for him, am I right?"

He looked over the shoulder. The others were still in the dining room, playing a round of Diamondback. Hawke was a smart woman. Of course she would figure it out. "Don't tell anyone. The mage is not to know about it. Swear you won't tell." He pleaded with her. She cocked her head and gave him the most wicked smile he saw on the woman. " Andraste's smelly feet! I won't swear anything, Fenris. He ought to know. What if he feels the same way? Are you so afraid of rejection you choose to silently suffer? That's not the best solution." His fingers poked at her shoulder, accusingly. "He and I are too different, he is a mage. I hate magic and all that are associated with it. You know that I cannot get rid of this hate that has been planted in me. It's etched into my skin like a plague. I am... alone and I shall be alone for the rest of my life."

Hawke shook her head. "Maker, you're so insufferable, Fenris! We are friends, we have been friends for many years and I want you to be happy. You deserve happiness. I believe you and Anders deserve happiness most of us all. You two have been through a lot. Tell him about your feelings. I know it's hard for you since he's a mage, but he isn't like the ones in Tevinter. Why else would you risk your life for him?"

She was right in that aspect, at least. The healer was the exact opposite of the magisters. He was selfless, helping without a hope for compensation and kind. He looked away. "Don't ask this of me, Hawke. I won't tell him."

The door creaked open and revealed a battered up and thoroughly tired man, dressed only in breeches, bandages were neatly tied around his torso. His expression was solemn. "Hawke, could you leave us alone?"

She assessed the situation and truly it was for the best if she left them to talk it out. Maker knows they're as stubborn as mules, but maybe this will help them see the truth. She smiled at them warmly. "Sure thing. I'll go and let Isabela trick me into losing more gold. In the meantime, you can have a discussion in my room. " Without further ado, she left. While she was descending the stairs, she couldn't resist and gazed up at the two men. They were just staring at each other. She shrugged. Hopefully, they'll heed her word. Now then, time for some more finesse with cards...

"If you would..." the healer gestured towards the room he emerged from. The warrior gritted his teeth. Surely the mage heard everything and he'll reject the idea. "I'd rather not."

"Please." the mage begged him.

He closed his eyes shut for a moment. The moment of truth. Let's get it over with. "Fine." He agreed reluctantly and the mage's face lit up – he looked far younger. He followed him inside Hawke's bedroom. The healer sat down on bed, sighing heavily. "Maker, this sounded better in my head."

He closed the door and stood there, looking at him. The mage's gaze caught him by surprise. It was earnest. "I heard from Hawke that you were captured by Varania and templars. I am sorry. If it weren' for me..."

"I blame her and templars, not you. Such disgusting tactics shouldn't be used by someone who claims to be serving the greater good."

"I agree completely. Funny how Chantry and templars forbid the use of blood magic and yet phylacteries use the same principle to track down escaped mages. Also, they make deals with blood mages to capture mages – apostates like me. I thought that when I destroyed my phylactery, I was free of them. And I dragged you, Hawke and everyone I want to protect along." He approached the mage who was clearly in low spirits. "Anders."

His amber orbs looked dead on to the emerald ones.

"Fenris?"

The elven warrior made the decisive steps that separated him from the startled mage and sat down next to him. "Running away from Circle, running away from Wardens... it must be a habit. But after recent events, I understand you better."

The former Grey Warden chuckled. "Running away from your family, straight to Danarius... running away from Danarius. Maybe we're more alike than I thought."

His lips curved up in a smile."You say strange things, mage."

"Do I?" He joked, then his amber orbs darkened. He closed his eyes and leaned in, planting a kiss on the warrior's lips. Needless to say, he was surprised by the healer's act and even more when he kissed back. It ended sooner than it began, though. The mage withdrew, smirking. "So... not one -sided love after all? Man, I am glad Hawke spoke to me of your daring charge at Holding Caves. I hear you took command."

He blinked, flustered. The woman tricked him. It was so like her. "Hawke has a loose set of lips. I should sew them up."

"No, her smart mouth saved us more than once in a pinch. I am thankful for your timely rescue, Fenris." he didn't retort back as he would, because he had no arguments. The mage saw through him and his buried feelings, all thanks to meddling Hawke.

"Let me get this clear. You can't return to the clinic after this incident." The healer nodded. "Yes, I know. I am a well known apostate now. I should probably leave Kirkwall. I don't want to trouble Hawke, Aveline and Varric."

"If you're leaving, then I am going, too."

The mage looked up at him, genuinely happy. "I didn't dare to hope you'd go with me..."

"There is nothing holding me here... except you. It took me great deal of effort to understand that I came to Kirkwall not to escape Danarius, but to meet someone... someone like you. A mage, yet so different. You fight because you have no choice. You don't harm, you heal. I respect you for that. But, one last thing..."

Healer took his hand and held it. "I will answer whatever you want to hear."

"The spirit... will it leave you be? Am I considered a threat to it by slowing you down? Am I straying you from the path?"

The mage smiled faintly. "Justice does not approve that we have to leave, but you're no threat or diversion. He and I are one one. I cannot say what awaits us, but with you by my side... we will overcome anything."

The warrior squeezed the mage's free hand. "That we will. I'll protect you from anything and anyone, even yourself." Now it was the healer's turn to blush. "I am not a damsel in distress, you know. I can protect myself."

"I know that. Still, I am with you and I'll be here for you from now on. I am not alone anymore."

The mage smiled for the warrior. "You should smile more often. You look more beautiful that way."

"Are you flirting with me, Fenris?" He asked as a matter of factly, enjoying the forming red on the elf's cheeks and the red on the tips of adorable ears.

"Flirting... I am bad at it. Maybe I'll practice it."

"You should. For now, let's lay down. I am sure Hawke won't object. She lent us her bedroom, remember? I am tired. I'll be much more content with someone sleeping next to me." He suggested and the elven warrior shook his head. "Your courtship ideas are very daring, mage."

"Do I hear protests from the handsome elf?"

He chuckled nervously. "No. Climb in. We'll tell Hawke and others of our departure another day."

Anders slid under the sheets and soon Fenris followed. They looked at each other for a long time before sleep finally came.

The future was uncertain for them, the roads ahead probably harsh and less traveled but they'd be together, guarding each other. Fenris embraced the fast asleep mage, closing his eyes. It was all new, faded for him. But worth it.

~ THE END? ~

 _Author's Notes - So I guess some people might have enjoyed this babbling of a mad woman, but I wonder if certain individuals who read to the very awkward end would like a... sequel? That sound like a really bad idea. I might as well do it. Only time will tell and reviews... if I get any. I am not hopeful. I've been on this site for many years now. I rarely get reviews nowadays. That's all, I guess. See ya... maybe?_


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